USS Barack Obama, 0012h, 2/5/1986
Ethan Galloway, Ensign of the US Navy, slipped face first onto the deck. Shaking his head, he stood, and, gripping the rails at the side of the Obama's flight deck, made his way to the lift currently raising the F-50 Stealth Fighter's into position for take-off. He jumped onto the lift as it began it's descent to acquire another fighter, and lowered his hood. Stepping off the lift, he shrugged off the waterproof jacket and began to run. As he reached the edge of the hanger, a door slid open and he slipped through it. The silver halls of the carrier shone red as alarms blared. Ethan pushed his way past several scrambling pilots making their way to the hanger. He rushed into engineering, slipped on the water scattered across the walkway hanging above the main deck, and fell over the rail. The distance from the walkway to the deck was 20 meters. Ethan was dead before he hit the console directly below him. The superheated air caused by the cataclysmic explosion that took place approximately 1 second after Ethan fell saw to that.
HMS Ark Royal, 0012h, 2/5/1986
Rear-Admiral Mark McTeale barked orders at his crew. Ever since the CI had given out, control of the combat systems on-board the Heathrow had been rerouted to the HIC's on the bridge. Silo hatches slid open across the sleek, streamlined hull of the Toronto-class Stealth Cruiser, and missiles flew out as blurs, twisting through hails of anti-aircraft fire to their targets. McTeale turned to face a young Lieutenant as he called something out.
"The Obama has incoming, sir! Their ABS is out of ammo." The Lieutenant fell silent, as did the rest of the bridge. McTeale looked out across the water at the behemoth aircraft carrier, and shielded his eyes as a missile hit it's rear, and detonated while it crashed through the fabled ship's fuel containers, adjacent to main engineering.
USS Barack Obama, 1911h, 6/4/2027
He looked at the hand he had just been played. Warily, with great purpose, he re-arranged them into a pleasing order, and allowed a wolfish grin to spread across his face. The man opposite him raised his right eyebrow, and laid down his five-card hand. Two threes, and two eights, he noted. Looking at his own hand, and then again at his opponents, he laid his cards infornt of him, face-up. A ten, Jack, Queen, King and Ace.
"Damn," the other man hissed, and handed him a slate. It was metal, with a screen covering one face. The screen glowed with a blue light. He touched the screen at the side, where there was a small bar, and dragged his finger down. The text on the slate scrolled up, allowing to see the rest of the briefing.
"You do realise I'm gonna have a hell of alot of fun, don't you."
"Aye, sir."
"And your not going to get any of it," he stated with a smile. The other man smiled back, then stood.
"I'd better be getting back to the
Ark Royal, sir," the other man said.
"Good. I'd like you to brief the task force commanders on the exercise, and select a small escort force to protect the
Einstein while we're away."
"Aye, sir." The other man saluted, and left the room. The remaining man slid his fingers along a glowing panel at the corner of the desk he was sitting at. The lighting in the room rose to full. He stood, and walked round to the front of the desk. He switched on the screen at the far end of the stateroom. A bell sounded, and the man turned and pressed another button on his desk.
"Admiral?" a voice asked from a nearby set of speakers.
"Yes?" The Admiral replied.
"The commander of the Einstein
wishes to know how long the exercise will last."
"Keep him waiting, I'm on my way." The Admiral turned the screen back off again, and walked through the sliding doors.
USS Einstein, 1911h, 6/4/2027
Alex's eyes scanned the screen infront of him, and nodded. The group of eager scientists around him exuded an air of extreme relief. "Looks correct," he added, barely able to stop a giant grin from spreading across his face. "Get Admiral Anderson on the main screen."
HMS Ark Royal, 1911h, 6/4/2027
"This is Echo Squadron, we've picked up the package, returning to nest." The Captain of the
Ark Royal, James Watson, smiled and nodded as the wave of satisfaction spread through the ship's bridge. They had been directing an operation with the
HMS Heathrow, Echo Squadron consisting of one of the
Heathrow's S-3 Transport Helicopters and three Nighthawk Fighters. The task had been to pick up the SAS team conducting a classified mission in the heart of Jihadist territory. Watson did not know what the team's mission had been, but he intended to weedle it out of McTeale when he returned from the
Obama.
HMS Heathrow, 1912h,6/4/2027
Lieutenant Hinsley gave the Ensign manning the console beside him, the communications router, a high-five. Ensign John Barclay was Hinsley's younger cousin, and had been assigned to the Heathrow a week before they left for the mid-Pacific. Behind the two men, Captain Ferguson handed a data slate to Lt. Commander Hawking, who left the bridge for the flight deck. A few minutes later Hinsley locked his console and left the bridge with Barclay, alongside most of Alpha shift.
"Mess Hall?" Barclay asked. Barclay was obviously hungry. Between covering for Chief O'Brein during Gamma shift, who was in the Medical Section onboard the JDS Ishizaka after contracting the H5N2 strain of Influenza A, and then having to concentrate on orchestrating communications during the operation, Barclay had worn himself out completely.
"Yeah, sure," Hinsley said, mercifully. He wasn't hungry himself, having eaten before Alpha shift.